


Holographic

by lafcentric



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: "Gay for you", (in later chapters), Angst, Canon Non-Binary Character, Everyone is Queer, Everyone is a lil bit trans, F/F, F/M, First Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Lots of indie stuff, M/M, Multi, Pining, Smut, Trans Alexander Hamilton, alternative universe - youtubers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:18:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7581220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafcentric/pseuds/lafcentric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lafayette shows Hercules the holographic side of life. Hercules, in return, shows Lafayette that life can be sweeter around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First fic here. I'm excited. Also, YouTuber AU had to happen. I saw it nowhere.

Hercules Mulligan lived with Alexander Hamilton in a little apartment in New York. Now, Hercules had been friends with Alex since High School: they’d shared homeroom, shared a dorm, shared a single, tiny shower and now they shared their fairly spacious apartment, so there truly was no problem about living together. Alexander remembered to do his chores in time, despite the fact that most days he forgot to just fucking eat and Hercules always ended up whipping out something the fastest he could so his best friend wouldn’t end up starving. And, well, the reason why Alex had such a hectic schedule wasn’t just because he was a writer but because he was a _YouTuber._

Now, don’t get Hercules wrong, _he_ was a YouTuber himself. He had a few covers on guitar and base and sometimes he did some cooking vlogs whenever he had a particularly good day. He had a few followers, not much, but it was enough to earn him some extra cash while he worked on climbing up the culinary chain. Alexander, though was, er… a bit more of a big deal. A big deal as in, fifteen million subscribers to his gaming channel and about seven million on his vlogging one. The guy ranted about political and social stuff, mostly LGBT issues, and the next second he could be giggling at some stupid game with whacky physics. Hercules had caught him drunk more than once on camera. It was—not Hercules’ cup of tea to have him scream at two in the morning at the screen. 

 _But_ it was all fine. Alex did help people. He donated to charity most of what he earned, sometimes recklessly, and he made sure to have a dedicated and loving fanbase that wouldn’t end up being toxic like most. Hercules admired that about his friend, watched sometimes from the kitchen as he ranted shyly into the camera how much it meant to him that he’d have a legacy, that he’d leave his mark in this world. Those days, Alex ended up curled against Hercules with a small smile and wet eyes.

Other times, though, he’d get frustrated beyond sense: the guy got comments about videos that were recommended all the time, most about unfair situations in which members of the LGBT community or people of colors were involved. A beating, verbal abuse, a coming out video or a suicide note. _React to this, talk about this, tell us what to do_. Alex ended up crushed and more than once he’d decided to get a goddamn plane ticket just to fly out and see _this_ particular person who had _this_ particular thing happen to them. Just because he could _maybe_ help.

That was how he met John and hey, their relationship was going without a single hitch—aside from those times when John came around and Alex had lost too much weight. The kid was young, reckless, moreso than Alexander, and he cursed up a lot with a deep southern accent. Yet he was warm and kind and passionate about human rights. Gay as the fourth of July. The video of his father beating him up in the middle of Central Park had gone viral.

So when Hercules pulled open the door of their makeshift office at three in the morning, blinking hard at the bright light coming from Alexander’s masterace, he knew something like that was going on. John was fast asleep on the comfortable couch, a blanket thrown over him so the chill of early October wouldn’t seep into his bones. And Alexander was curled up in his big super gaming chair that Hercules hated so much, watching the screen.

“Dude,” Hercules groaned. “You’ve been on your computer for the last twelve hours. Go to sle -"

“Shh,” he hissed, cheeks wet, and Hercules clenched his jaw. “I’m listening.”

French. It was French, so he couldn’t understand but as he moved closer and squinted at the screen he found – well, he found _beauty_. Which, well, going by the entire background and playlist on the side of the video, he could guess it was some sort of beauty vlog. Yet the person in the middle wasn’t preppy or happy or anything like that. They were sniffling, looking away from the camera, hunched over as they spoke between soft sobs. Hercules wondered what they were talking about.

“Is this a coming out video?” he whispered, noticing the makeup, the trans flag on the background and their perfectly sealed makeup, not running despite their insistent crying. They were _really_ pretty.

“No, they came out five years ago,” Alexander whispered. “This is them letting their fans know they’ll be away for a while. They’ve just been orphaned.”

Hercules sighed, cursing under his breath in Irish. “Alex, man, you can’t –“

“Watch me,” he clenched his jaw and he whipped out his phone and Hercules grabbed his wrist quick. “Herc –“

“How about,” he began softly, nudging his head in the direction of John’s sleeping figure, “you go and take your boyfriend to bed, you sleep on it, and then think if you really wanna go to France or Belgium or Madagascar or wherever this g – person is?”

Alex looked over at the video, chewing on his lip before nodding, pausing it—but he subscribed quick, only then shutting off his computer and standing.

“Did you eat?” Hercules asked, rubbing his back. These videos always took a toll on Alex.

“Yeah, John brought homemade enchiladas,” he smiled softly at his boyfriend, moving to run a hand through his messy curls. “Can you help me?”

“Sure,” Hercules chuckled, effortlessly picking up the southerner and quickly moving him into Alexander’s bedroom. John whined as he was left on the bed but quickly curled around Alex when he dropped next to his boyfriend, the two cuddling it up and making Hercules roll his eyes before closing the door, rubbing his face. He looked at the clock.

Four in the morning.

He sighed. In two hours he was supposed to wake up to prepare a batch of lemon tarts and fresh chocolate muffins _and_ blueberry as well down at the bakery. He was tired, he was beat, he’d spent the entire weekend having to listen to John and Alex either banging or being too in love with each other. It was kind of exhausting and he felt slightly bad for wanting John to go back to Virginia again, even if it was just for a while. He had sleep to catch up on. And perhaps a few new recipes to try out.

Yet it was by now too late to fall asleep or perhaps too early. Dropping on his bed, Hercules was restless and so he pulled out his phone and scrolled through it aimlessly, switching to Instagram when he saw a post about that one YouTuber Alex had been watching, the French speaking one. With a shrug, he decided to check it out and was faintly grateful that their Instagram was in English when he found it. And yep, it was all mostly nails—until he found their personal one.

Orphaned. A car crash, apparently, one they’d been in. He’d guessed from the cast on their arm and the tape on the bridge of their nose but yeah, they’d been in it as well. Hercules felt his stomach flip at their tired, worn look as they spoke in a very accented voice about watching their grandmother and mother die right in front of them, being helpless about it. They donated a bunch of money to the hospital where they’d met some kids in worse conditions and announced they’d be taking a break. He watched the entire video that was in English, swallowing again unpleasantly when they apologized. Like when Alex split his goddamn skull on one of their trips to Ireland and tried to record a fucking video in the hospital. Some people were too dedicated.

Eventually, he got up when his alarm began to ring and Alex trudged out of his room with a groan, John still snoring inside. Half-hearted greetings, two big mugs of entirely black coffee and, finally, when Hercules was about to get out of the door completely dressed and completely ready, Alex said, “So I’m gonna talk to Lafayette.”

“Who?” Hercules frowned.

“The French person. The one on the video,” he explained. “Already sent them a message to talk.”

“Maybe they don’t wanna, Alex,” the Irishman sighed. “Like that one time you approached –“

“They’re answering,” he shrugged, looking down at his phone. “I’ll, uh, update you and shit on the details but maybe I’ll go to France for some time. A week minimum.”

“Tops?” Hercules cocked an eyebrow.

“A month?” Alex shrugged. “Dunno. Never been to France, either.”

“Alright,” his roommate said slowly. “Well, do update me. I’ll be late at the shop so don’t wait to make lunch.”

“Ah, it’s Friday already?” Alex pursed his lips. “It’s Friday.”

“Yeah, Alex, John leaves in two days,” Hercules muttered. “Sorry, man. Times waits for nobody. Anyway, I’ll, uh, leave you to your charity picking.”

“Ain’t no charity,” Alex mumbled as Hercules grabbed his keys and opened the front door. “It’s called sympathy, Herc.”

“You can’t pick every orphan you see on the sidewalk, Alex,” he whispered to him, pulling on his beanie to fight off the cold. “And you can’t give your heart out to everyone. One day, you’ll realize you have no heart left to give.” And with that, he shut the door and the apartment went silent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love the crew, okay? Everyone being a lil bit gay and Herc as the token straight guy.

Hercules should not be surprised. He really, _really_ shouldn’t be surprised. Yet, of course, he was when he entered the apartment and was immediately swarmed by expressive arm movements and Alexander’s huge grin as he spoke a mile per hour. Hercules blinked—and in the course of that blink, _of course_ , John had swooped in and gotten all the leftover goodies he’d brought from the bakery. Alex kept talking. Hercules’ head ached.

“Hammie,” he groaned, raising his hand and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Again. Slowly. Please.”

“Okay, so,” his accent was thicker when it was usually impeccable. He’d been speaking French all morning, then, probably with this French person. Damn, was he really so excited about it? “I talked to them – super nice, at first a bit shy, but we kinda just bonded over LGBT shit, right?”

“Right,” Hercules nodded, humming in agreement as he entered the kitchen and slapped John’s hands away from the red velvet cupcakes he’d spent so much doing and _honestly_ wanted to try himself. The scream cheese frosting had just come out too good not to eat it.

“And they told me their story and _man_ , Herc, they’re fucking brilliant,” he sat beside John as the southerner nodded, mouth full of lemon tarts. “They graduated super early, kinda like Burr but without the whole asshole thing going on, and then they went ahead and began their own channel for lack of something better to do—”

“Why not get a job?” Hercules cocked an eyebrow.

“Long story short, they’re a Marquis in France and it’d be disgraceful to their family,” he explained and John rolled his eyes before Hercules scoffed – loudly.

“Since when do you sympathize with rich, spoiled kids?” he asked, turning around and leaning against the counter as he ate another of his cupcakes. He’d have to burn it all down, damn, but they were good. “I mean, aside from John. John’s not even spoiled.”

“And now I’m poor as fuck,” John pointed out and Hercules nodded at him, raising his cupcake in his direction as if to make a point. “But hey, Herc, being rich… sometimes it’s not what it seems. I may have been loaded before but it came with so much nasty stuff. It just wasn’t worth it.”

Hercules winced, “Yeah. Sorry. You got a point. Anyway, what’s _your_ point, Alex?”

“Well, we spoke all morning and they were super comprehensive with everything that was going on, and they told me how they’d always wanted to visit the States, especially New York so –“

“They’re coming over to stay with us, aren’t they?” Hercules sighed.

“Yup,” Alex clasped his hands behind his back. “They are. Well, not with _us_ , like, they’ll be staying at a hotel and shit for the month they’ll be here. New York’s pretty big, as you know, and they’re an artist so –“

“You’re joking,” Hercules shook his head. “Like hell. You know how complicated New York is to people who’ve never seen it before, especially Europeans. The States are so different, Alex, damn it, at least tell me they speak decent English.”

“They do,” he promised. “Decent enough. And hey, my idea was to let them stay over at our apartment but I thought it wouldn’t sit well with you,” he gave a small wince and looked away and Hercules bristled slightly.

“Why, because they’re trans?” he asked, incredulous.

“Herc,” Alex began with a sigh and Hercules pointed a finger at him.

“Fuck you, Alexander Hamilton, I was fourteen,” he said angrily. “And tell me when in the last three years have I fucking misgendered you?”

“Never,” Alex placated, moving closer. “I don’t think you’re a bigot, Herc, you’re just… _cishet_ ,” he gave a single shrug of his shoulder and Hercules left the cupcake on John’s hand, swallowing quick. “It’s not an insult, it’s a fact, I swear! You’ve got preconceived ideas of trans people, Herc, and that’s—well, it’s not _okay_ but it’s completely normal!”

“I can learn,” Hercules tried not to feel too offended. He was an ally, he was an avid defender of LGBT rights, how could Alex even doubt him? It felt like a knife on his chest. “Dude, I was the only one accepting you. I always stayed by your side. And now you’re not even giving me the benefit of the doubt?”

“Their gender is fluid, Herc,” Alex placed a hand on his arm, so tiny compared to the thick, dark muscle. In all honestly, Hercules forgot sometimes that Alex didn’t have a dick. That he wasn’t just a cis, gay guy living New York YouTube life. He was in the closet. He was scared. People didn’t usually understand. But _he_ could.

“So? We’ll just set up a color code or something. That’s not transphobic, right?” he asked nervously, looking at John, who gave him a thumb up. The asshole wasn’t even worried and he wasn’t cis, either. John didn’t even _know_ what he was. He just – was. But being cis didn’t sit right with him. “Color code. Invite them over. Come on, Hammie, I—I’m not an asshole, alright? I don’t wanna be the cishet douchebag whom everyone hates.”

“You’re not,” Alex promised, patting his arm. “You just wouldn’t understand the struggle. Never will. And I’m glad about that. You don’t have to fight to be in the closet when you don’t wanna.”

“Or figure out gender fuckery,” John pointed out.

“That one’s a bitch,” Alex ran a hand through his hair. “Really, man, you’re lucky. And we love you— _I_ love you. And I trust you. I’ll, uh, let them know.”

“Thanks,” Hercules muttered, sighing. “I think I’m gonna go for a run or something. Ate too much junk shit. And you—” another sigh tumbled out of his lips and he just waved his hand at Alex, shaking his head. “Just—whatever. Invite them over, this Lafayette guy, person, whomever. Don’t care as long as they clean up and respect my goodies.”

“Gotcha,” Alex grinned. “Thanks, Herc. For everything.”

“Of course,” he replied in a whisper, walking out of the kitchen and into the hallway, to his room, ready for a nap…

…only to research trans shit. He did that from time to time, when he freaked out about whether he was fucking up with Alex or not or if maybe John didn’t say any different pronouns because he didn’t feel comfortable around Hercules. Now it was about some French person whom Alex had never truly met. He’d had gamers: Jacksepticeye, Sean, who got along swimmingly with Hercules due to their identical heritage or even Markiplier, Mark, when he’d been around New York needing a place to stay, and he’d had people that vlogged about social matters such as Ashley Mardell but a nailart person? It was just so unlike Alexander’s alley. People would question it.

Eventually, he sat up and changed his clothes into a pair of shorts and a simple shirt, taking his iPod and his running shoes before waving goodbye at the pair cuddling on the couch, whispering to each other with loving smiles. Then the door closed and Hercules was gone again.

* * *

 

“You’re leaving,” Adrienne stated and Lafayette looked up from their Starbucks cup to watch her with wide eyes, a deer caught in the headlights. “No, no, don’t you give me that look, Marie, I _know_ you: we’re best friends.”

“I was going to tell you,” they whispered, a feeble attempt to quell the anger sparking in her pretty dark eyes. “It’s not even planned, Adri, I—I just don’t know what to do.”

“What to do about what, Marie?” she sighed, rubbing her forehead, shaking her head and Lafayette tried to make themself seem smaller, hunching their shoulders and pulling their knitted scarf up to cover their nose. “I get that this is hard. I do, you _know_ that but—but why would you run away? France is your home—”

“It doesn’t feel like home anymore, Adri, hasn’t had for a long time,” their hands cupped their warm drink and their eyes fell to the steam rising, swirling in the air. Their tongue still hurt. They’d drank too eagerly and they got burnt. “This YouTuber, the one Pierre loves so much? Adotham? His name is Alex, he’s a nice guy. He offered to show me New York, change the scenery.”

Adrienne sighed again before they even finished, shaking her head, her entire body language screaming _disappointed_. Laf knew it’d be like that but they didn’t get offended, they… they were just sad. Adrienne did not understand, as much as she wanted to. She _liked_ France. She had a long-term boyfriend, a beautiful house in Auvergne—her childhood home, one where too many memories flooded Lafayette’s mind—and a dream-like job. Lafayette didn’t have any of that. They had an empty apartment, an empty passion and an empty heart. They felt lost, walking through Paris, looking around. Familiar, all the same. They felt like the meaning of things was slowly slipping away, lost and alone. Then the car accident had happened.

And the worst part was the aftermath.

“You’d truly leave me?” Adrienne asked quietly and Lafayette’s eyes shot to her, the back of them burning as they choked out.

“Fuck you, Adri, that’s not fair,” they gripped their cup tighter. Their palms burned.

“You would,” she looked exasperated. “Damn it, Marie, come on! You can’t just up and leave!”

“I can,” Lafayette told her. It’d been all they had been able to think about for the past two weeks: _I can leave, I can run, I can just pack a back and leave everything behind_. “I can, Adri, that’s the thing. I can.”

“This is your life,” she reached out for their hand but they pulled it away so she wouldn’t reach. “There’s no way to run from it—”

“I’m not running from anything,” they replied, frowning, and they took a big gulp of their hot coffee, finally meeting her eyes. “I just want to be able to _think_ , Adri, can’t you understand it?”

“I can but you could let me be selfish for once,” she muttered.

Lafayette bristled, “Adri, maman and nanna just _died_. Right in front of me and perhaps your life went the way you wanted it to but mine did _not_! We’re not sixteen anymore! We can’t just hide in your room or go to Pierre’s to get high, no. It’s not like that anymore.”

Adrienne swallowed and when tears built in her eyes a pang of shame shook them. It wasn’t fair, how she was making them feel this guilty when it was a perfectly reasonable thing to want to just… get away. For a while. A while. That was the real question, wasn’t it?

Lafayette knew they had to address it, that it was the elephant in the room but they didn’t. They just finished their drink. Threw it in the trash. Didn’t look back as they left Adrienne crying in the table, the waitress asking if she was alright. Their wrist pulsed and it hurt. By the time they closed their apartment door, they were crying silently.

**Adotham:**

_Heya Laf_

_Just a question_

_Would you be comfortable staying in my apartment with my bff and i?_

_Like_

_Okay, new york’s kinda tricky so_

_It’s not weird is it_

_Oh man i’ve made it weird_

The messages had been sent about an hour ago and Lafayette watched the screen of their phone for the longest time, lying on their couch until their tears dried. Then they answered with a simple _yeah, sure, it’s alright, sounds fun_ and then they let their phone fall on the coffee table. The urge to spill their heart out in a vlog was intense but they held themself back. Lafayette cried again until they fell asleep.

* * *

 

“Alright, so let me get this straight, this is what I missed,” Caleb groaned as he flopped down on the couch, suitcase falling to the floor of the apartment as he grabbed a slice of pizza, pointing it at Alex. “You’re taking in another stray—"

“They’re _not_ a stray,” Alexander hissed at him.

“You’ve got a damn problem, Hamilton,” Caleb threw an olive at him. “Anyway, another stray for Alex, Ben’s now a sugar baby—”

The blonde flushed red and choked on his beer, spraying it everywhere, making Caleb roar with laughter and Hercules wince as he patted his best friend’s back. Ben coughed, knocking his fist on his chest before wheezing out at Caleb, “Jesus _Christ_ , Caleb, how many times do I have to tell you?! He’s not a – a- _a—_ ”

“Sugar daddy?” Caleb cocked an eyebrow. “Dude, he’s like, what? Forty?”

“Thirty eight,” Benjamin mumbled, trying to wipe off the mess he’d made on himself.

“Close to forty, dude,” Caleb gave him a look. “ _And_ he’s also filthy rich and buys you super expensive stuff so you bend over for him and let him spank ya.”

There was a cacophony of groans, multiple things thrown at the twenty year old for the comment as he just kept snickering. Anna kicked him on the thigh.

“First of all, he buys me things because he _cares_ ,” Ben explained, rolling his eyes. “And they’re not even that expensive, come on. Besides, we haven’t even had sex.”

“Oh, please, let us know all the details about your relationship with tall, dark and handsome,” John laughed.

“No, please, _I_ don’t wanna know,” Hercules paused them all, lifting a hand. “I don’t wanna know how my best friend likes taking dick.”

“You’re too straight,” Caleb threw at Hercules and the baker groaned. “No, dude, really, in this group of friends you gotta be at least a lil’ bit gay. I thought I was straight. Then—”

“Enough beer for you!” John stated, taking away the bottle and ignoring Caleb as he drank it himself.

“What’s up with you all tryna convert me all of a sudden?” Hercules mumbled. “First with Alex telling me I couldn’t possibly get along with his new stray—”

“They’re _not a stray_!” Alex emphasized but everyone ignored him.

“—just because they’re trans. Like, non-binary and shit. You think I haven’t done my research? I’m cis, yes, and I don’t like dick but dudes. Come on,” he looked a bit tired and Ben patted his shoulder. “You all fuckers are like the LGBTI equivalent of Jehovah’s Witnesses.”

They laughed as Hercules rubbed his face, shaking his head at his friends.

“Okay, okay, but—Herc,” Caleb leaned in. “Knock knock.”

“Caleb…” Hercules warned but the twenty year old gave no fucks.

“Come on! Knock knock!” he grinned.

The Irishman sighed, dropping the crust of his pizza on the box so Ben could maul it like he always had. “Alright. Who’s there?”

“Me. Queer up.”

“Goddamn it,” Hercules cursed as laughter went around the group, everyone starting to make awful gay jokes. Alexander was a pro at bi puns, though, and he just kept saying them so Hercules took everyone’s plates and moved on to the kitchen, trying to distract himself. He didn’t really notice Ben entering the room as well.

“Hey,” the blonde said softly, sliding next to him and starting to clean the dishes, the two falling into the familiar pattern of working together. “Sorry if it did bother you. I know you don’t find it that funny.”

“It’s okay, I’m just surrounded by grown children,” Hercules chuckled, running a sponge through a fork. Anna was weird and ate her pizza weird. “It doesn’t really bother me, Ben, it’s just—” he sighed, giving a shrug. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve been acting kinda off all day,” Ben agreed. “What’s wrong, man?”

“The trans thing,” he muttered. “The, uh, ‘stray’ Alex is bringing. They’re, well, trans obviously. And I didn’t have a problem with it, you know me but Alex kinda did? Like, he thought I would be weird with them or something?”

Ben frowned, “Why?”

“Their gender is fluid or something like that,” Hercules gave a shrug of one shoulder. “And I’m just a cisgender, heterosexual guy who would have no idea what that’s like so…”

“Hey, that’s bullshit,” Ben put the rag down. “That’s a really shitty thing to say from Alex, you were the first to knock all our heads together and get them out of our asses. It’s not fair to you.”

“I thought it was clear that I’m an ally, you know?” Hercules felt a deep pressure in his chest. “And now, now it’s like—I wanna try harder. I wanna… I wanna get along with this Lafayette person he’s bringing. Show him that I’m totally fine with non-binary people.”

“I know you are,” Ben offered, trying to make his best friend feel better. “And hey, I know what it feels like. I’m super white, look at me!” he laughed, pointing at himself. “So when you guys talk about Black Lives Matter or police brutality or representation… I only have a faint idea applied to being hella gay.”

“Don’t say hella again,” Hercules begged, making Ben grin. “Please.”

“Fine,” Ben chuckled. “But, well, you get my drift?”

“Yeah,” Hercules hummed. “I guess. If you’re not the one oppressed, you can’t truly understand. I’ll never know what’s like to come out of the closet.”

“Exactly,” Ben nodded. “ _But_ you can definitely make LGBT people feel more real. Validated. Which is what Alex wants, man, he’s just really shitty sometimes, and you know him. He says whatever’s going on in his head with no filter, like that one time Madison and Jefferson caught him cheating on Liza and thought he was stealing from the Schuylers and he—”

“He confessed to fucking cheating?” Hercules snickered. “Oh, man. That was gold.”

“Alex is Alex,” Ben stated. “And you are you. Cis or trans or gay or straight or whatever, man. It’s just a part of who you are. It doesn’t define _you_ but it’s a part of _you_. And whoever this person is, well, then you’ll just have to meet them as they are. With the trans thing, the queer thing and all the good and/or bad things they have.”

“Yeah,” Hercules smiled, weight lifted off his shoulders. “Yeah. Thank, Ben. You’re a bro.”

Ben winced, “God, you’re so straight.”

“You fucking—!”

The kitchen ended up with pools of water and little bubbles of soap on the floor, Ben and Hercules soaked to the bone but the Irishman did feel so much better after talking to his best friend, the blonde grinning wide as he sat back down on the couch and told everyone they’d be watching Pacific Rim because it was the stupidest, awesomest movie ever. Anna was on board so that’s what they ended up doing. And Hercules, on one end of the couch with Alex leaning against him, felt like he could finally breathe.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all noticing what I'm doing but if not fret notttt

John left. It was always a hard time when he did—Alex got really sad. He’d call John at random hours and always be extremely happy while doing so only to break down once the call was over, phone slipping from his fingers. Hercules would be there, he always was, and he’d pull him into a tight hug and make plans for everyone to drop by and keep the apartment always full of life. October began to slow down into grays in the sky and leaves on the ground. Lafayette would arrive soon.

“It’s Autumn,” Ben muttered. Hercules looked up, watched the big, wide window of the bakery, saw the orange, yellow and brown leaves descending slowly from the nearby tree. It was raining.

It was Ben’s favorite season, Hercules knew because he spent more time looking out the window than actually working. It’d annoy him, since they got the most work during Fall and Winter but Hercules knew Ben, was practically family, and he smiled.

“Yeah, Ben, it is,” he whispered back. There was almost no one at the shop, just Maria, the small girl who hunched her shoulders and always asked for lemon frosting over everything. Hercules was tempted to play Bon Iver right then and there. “Hey, you wanna stay overtime?”

The blonde nodded, hand on his cheek, elbow on the counter, a small smile grazing his lips. Hercules watched his best friend for a moment.

Benjamin Tallmadge didn’t have a complicated life. Never had, really. The only complex side of him came from his way of looking at life. He was the optimist in their group of friends, the one who gave the best advice, the one who brought apple pies from his mother who gladly allowed anyone Ben brought home. His father was a bit stricter but he was understanding of his son. Ben had had a picket fence house during High School. In college, his dorm had been spotless despite sharing with Caleb. He came out in a soft voice, announcing he was gay as could be and giving a shrug when Herc asked since when he’d known. Anna trusted him more than anyone else. Caleb would punch anyone who would even dare to look at Ben the wrong way.

So he wasn’t surprised that someone older was so smitten with Ben, really. Hercules was untying his apron when the door opened and he turned to see Tall, Dark and Handsome smiling at Ben in a familiar way. Everyone had looked at Ben that way, one way or another.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“Hey,” Ben sighed. And they kissed. Hercules didn’t want to interrupt or get in between but he couldn’t help but stare a little. Ben was happy. It was Autumn. “Your nose is cold,” his best friend mumbled and the man laughed loudly, grinning wide.

Hercules left the bakery in a better mood than he’d been the last few days, burrowing into his hand-knitted scarf from his nanna and pulling his coat tight around himself. Alexander would be home, as always, and he was bringing in hot chocolate from a nearby shop, thinking he’d appreciate it.

Hercules arrived to the apartment shivering a little and after leaving his coat he turned—and saw Lafayette as they licked their finger, eyes wide and on him. Hercules blinked. Lafayette popped their finger off their mouth.

“Hi?” he mumbled.

“Hello,” they blurted back, flushing. “Ah, um, Alexander? Vous—your roommate is back!”

“Is he?” Alexander’s head poked into the kitchen from the living room, grinning. “Hey, Herc! Meet Lafayette! They arrived like an hour ago!”

“Hey,” he said, much more gentle and, well, less weirded out by their presence. It’d just taken him aback. They were… tall. _Really_ tall. And pretty. He didn’t know how anyone with a beard and just a sharp jaw could manage to look stunning but, well, he supposed makeup truly was powerful. “I’m Hercules. Mulligan. It’s very nice to meet you. What are your pronouns?”

Their face lit up slightly at that and Hercules smiled softly as Alexander’s eyes lit up. Lafayette stood, looking around and taking a few tissues to clean their fingers from—ah, chocolate cake. He’d baked it a few days ago. The two shook hands, Lafayette’s grip far too light. They probably weren’t accustomed to shaking hands. So he pressed a kiss to their cheeks, one for each, being European himself. Lafayette looked even more relaxed and Alex leaned against the kitchen wall with a small smile.

“Je m’apelle Lafayette and I use they/them. It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Hercules. Alex talks a lot about you,” their eyes were warm. In fact, everything about them seemed warm. From the wonderful color of their skin to their dark, coffee eyes to their perfectly styled hair. Hercules was reminded that it was Autumn for some reason. “I guess I will be staying with you for a while.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, a bit charmed by their soft smile. They looked happy, not at all like in their vlog where they’d cried and cried and hissed when they moved their arm or made an expression that pulled on the wounds they still sported. They smelled of lavenders. “Make yourself comfortable. Have you seen the apartment yet?”

“Oui,” they nodded, rubbing their arm a bit sheepishly. “It’s nice. Cosy. Warm. I like it. It’s very cold out.”

“It is,” he chuckled. “That’s New York for you. Are you too cold?” he gestured at the scarf they still wore.

“Ah, little,” they nodded, looking embarrassed. They spoke quietly, too quiet when Alex spoke loudly and Hercules was almost as loud. “It is okay, I’m okay.”

“I brought hot chocolate,” he offered and their smile went soft again. But there was just _sometimes_ wrong with it.

There was something wrong with them. He kind of had guessed from before, given the car accident and being orphaned and needing to take a break enough to go to another continent. But as Hercules watched them from the corner of his eyes as he prepared said hot chocolate, he couldn’t help but notice small things. Their smile dropping when Alex was distracted. Their casted arm shaking with the effort. The tired circles under their eyes.

Alex chose people who were broken. Lafayette was a clear example. John had been even worse. Anna had lost her boyfriend, hadn’t dated anyone since. Caleb was the black sheep of his family. Ben was the exception.

If Alexander kept giving his heart out, he soon won’t have any heart for himself.


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re a baker.”

Hercules looked up from the pancake batter he was currently mixing, meeting Lafayette’s tired gaze. It was early, pretty early by standards like Alexander’s and for some reason he’d thought Lafayette would have the same schedule. But no, Lafayette was awake at eight, wearing a nightgown—red, silk, long sleeves but short skirt and holy shit, their legs went for miles—and some stupid Stitch slippers. It made him smile gently, he loved Disney.

“Yeah, I am,” he hummed. “I own a shop a block from here with my friend Ben. You’ll meet him tonight, probably, if he’s not too busy with his boyfriend.”

They nodded, sitting on one of the stools by the kitchen island and yawning, making a high-pitched noise that was, well, frankly adorable. Without makeup they looked more masculine, Hercules noticed, but not any less beautiful. He didn’t know if it was because these vloggers knew how to take care of themselves but he had to be pretty blind not to see how well their face was structured, how their lips seemed the perfect size, their stubble trimmed, their nails absolutely perfect. Yeah, it was unfair.

“Why do you like to bake?” Lafayette cocked their head.

“Well,” Hercules chuckled. “I like sweets. My ma used to bake a lot when I was a kid so I kind of developed this insane sweet tooth. She stopped making sweets for me after I got a cavity so I started baking them myself. I found out that it was _pretty_ addicting to cook and bake.”

“I like cake,” they said softly and that statement, so pure and truthful and innocent, brought a laugh out of Hercules. “What? What’s so funny?”

“I like cake, too,” Hercules smiled, shaking his head. “You like pancakes?”

“Oui,” they nodded.

And there was silence after that. Hercules at first thought it was because it was morning and nobody felt chatty except maybe himself and Anna when it was eight in the morning on a Sunday but as the silence dragged on, he looked at Lafayette and saw them watching the window, eyes sad—eyes _extremely_ sad. The Irishman was reminded of why they were here.

“You want some coffee?” he offered softly and they jumped, seemingly snapping out of a daze.

“Ah, no, thank you,” they whispered. “I’m not very hungry.”

“Then why come to the kitchen?” Hercules frowned, confused.

“I don’t like to be alone,” they replied quietly.

Hercules’ breath hitched and he nodded, humming, trying not to let them see how it affected him. He gnawed on his lower lip and, when the pancake batter was done he put it on a container and left it on the fridge. It needed half an hour inside before it was ready, so he grabbed his favorite mug, filled it with dark, sugarless coffee and sat in front of Lafayette, giving them a small smile.

“You’re a beauty vlogger, right?” he began and they nodded, trying to smile back at him. It seemed more of a grimace but Hercules appreciated that they’d tried. “Tell me about it.”

“Why?” they blinked. “It’s boring to you, I’m sure.”

“Perhaps not,” Hercules gave a shrug of one shoulder. “And I’d like to get to know you. You seem like a cool person, Lafayette.”

They smiled this time, a bit more genuine, and with a sigh they cupped their elbows into their hands, shoulders hunched slightly. They looked a bit scared but Hercules guessed he knew how it felt. New place, new people, people they didn’t even know much about. They were in their right to be afraid.

“I wish I can say that it’s not a gender thing,” they began, accent slipping. Hercules didn’t correct them, thought it rude to. “But it is. When I was small, I liked makeup. I liked—heels and dresses and pink things that boys are not conditioned to like. I had this, ah, how do you say? Existing crisis?”

“Existential crisis,” Hercules nodded.

“Oui, existential crisis about my identity. Gender identity, too but just, me, all of me,” they sighed. “Gender is weird. It was weird before and it is still weird now. It confused me and confuses me. I want to be feminine but I don’t want to be a girl, I don’t want to change my body. And I want to be they/them but I like to be called a lady. It’s—weird.”

“It is,” Hercules nodded and when they looked at him, frowning, he smiled. “It doesn’t mean it’s bad, though. I have a friend, Alexander’s boyfriend? He’s not cis. He’s biologically male, y’know? And his gender expression is masculine. And he doesn’t mind he/him pronouns, even though he also doesn’t mind ze/zir. But he’s not male. Isn’t that weird?”

They chuckled, nodding, closing their eyes and shaking their head. “That’s weird.”

The two laughed softly and soon enough, Hercules was making pancakes, humming to himself as he flipped them on his best pan. Lafayette had finally accepted a mug of coffee and had put an insane amount of sugar on it, which Hercules teased them for but they just stuck their tongue out.

They were sad, yeah, but he could see the childish cheer behind it all, how they’d be if a tragedy hadn’t happened. Happy, innocent, vivacious. Hercules liked Lafayette, thought that they were refreshing in a world where most of what he saw was Ben waxing philosophy about the meaning of life or Caleb telling him about his mother’s Alzheimer or Alex curled up in a blanket, under his bed on a particularly bad storm.

They were different. And he liked it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was the bane of my fucking existence oh my god why
> 
> It was so hard to write and I don't know why and I don't care it's out it's here enjoy the shitty ass chapter

Lafayette was doing their nails. Hercules had been reading the newest book Sanderson had written, sitting back on the couch when Lafayette had asked if they could join him, since Alexander was recording. He’d accepted, thinking they’d watch TV or do something else but they took out a baby blue bag and started to rifle through it, peaking Hercules’ interest. When they pulled out their nail polish he smiled softly—if you liked something, you could never truly take a break from it—and went back to his book, thinking it’d be all.

He—well, Hercules had never known nail art could be so damn complicated.

 “What are you doing?” he asked, baffled as they applied a completely transparent polish. What was even the point of that? “Isn’t nail polish supposed to have color?”

Lafayette looked up, blinking at him, confused for a second before they suddenly realized what he meant and beginning to giggle. Hercules flushed, looking down at his book and feeling grateful that his skin was dark enough to hide any reddening of his cheeks.

“It’s not polish,” they explained, smiling at him. “It’s a base coat. You put it on your nail before applying color and it helps to peel it off. It also keeps your nail healthy, not dry, you know?”

“Sorry, I just… I have _no_ idea about beauty products,” he confessed and they patted his hand with their dominant hand. Their fingers were cold, really cold, and Hercules was suddenly overcome with the desire to rub their hands in his. His were warm.

“If you’d like,” they began slowly. “I could show you.”

Hercules looked at them, at their lip between their teeth, their perfectly painted eyes watching him with hesitation. It wasn’t for Hercules, that much was obvious but for them. To make _them_ feel more comfortable. Hercules put his book away and turned to them fully, giving the French person a smile.

“Teach me, oh, great beauty guru,” he teased and they giggled, knocking their knee against him in a friendly way. It was an honestly adorable giggle and Hercules had to laugh as well. “So: base coat. That’s a thing. What color is it gonna be?”

“I’ll use more than one color,” they explained, pointing at the little bottles on the coffee table. They’d put a plastic sheet on top so it wouldn’t stain and Hercules noticed it was pastel pink with black little cat silhouettes on it. “I’ll use these colors. This is _saphira_ , a simple drugstore black which is my favorite and this beautiful gold! It’s called _a dwarf’s treasure_ in French and it’s from a quaint little shop in downtown Paris,” they smiled.

“It does look like it is melted gold,” Hercules grabbed the bottle and looked over it, eyes wide. “And that one has a lot of glitter.”

“It’s not glitter,” they said, chuckling. “It’s holo.”

“What?” he frowned. “Is that like a French thing? In English we—”

“No, no,” they laughed, hand moving over his and giving him the bottle. “It’s not glitter, it’s holo. Holographic. Glitter shifts only through a few colors but holographic nail polish shifts through all the colors of the rainbow.”

“How can you tell? It looks like glitter to me,” he hummed as he turned the bottle in his hand. At that, Lafayette rummaged through their bag and pulled out another nail polish, giving it to him. “Yeah, they look the same to me,” but they shook their head.

“Narrow your eyes, ah, how do you say…?” they bit their lip. Hercules’ eyes narrowed to that point.

“Squint?” he tried.

“Yeah.” Lafayette nodded with a smile. “Squint. Turn them. See the difference in the light.”

Hercules did as instructed and, indeed, there it was. Just like they’d said. The colors shifted much better in the holographic one, little blurry bubbles of light whilst the other one was just different tones of the same color. He chuckled as he opened his eyes completely back again, looking at Lafayette.

“That’s pretty cool,” he told them softly. He’d lie awake in bed that night and realize it wasn’t. It was just light. Pigments. But at the moment it was cool. They were cool. “So you’re gonna paint one nail with each color? You need two more, right?”

“No,” they grinned, shaking their head. “All these colors? In each nail.”

Hercules was _not_ good at this. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked at all the utensils they’d gotten out. “Explain?” he pouted a little at them— _pouted_. God, if Ben were there he’d slap it off Hercules’ face, what the hell was going on with him?

“D’accord,” they smiled.

It was a very interesting (and complicated, at least to Hercules) process. They explained to him step by step how to do it but most of it went over his head. He would wonder why until the night, again, when he’d go over their conversation and realize with a slap to his forehead that all he’d paid attention to were how the vocals would catch on their accent, the little _oui?_ that would escape their lips from time to time, how they took the tiniest brush Hercules had ever seen and painted with gold the tip. They’d used vinyls. He remembered they were called vinyls. It had a mermaid print. Too shiny for Hercules’ taste.

But he liked how the holographic blue complimented their skin.

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Alright, so—they’re, uh, rowdy,” Alexander was saying, speaking in wild gestures as the three of them walked through the streets of New York. Lafayette was listening, nodding, looking interested and curious in knowing more about their group of friends. Hercules was carrying the pizzas beside them both, chuckling every time Alexander used an adjective that tried to solve the hole he’d fug himself in. “Loud. Obnoxious but you end up loving it. Caleb is crude and Anna—”

“What does crude mean?” they asked, interrupting gently.

“Blunt,” Alex tried. “Like, rude? Not rude, damn it, like…”

“He says what he says, damn the consequences,” Hercules stated.

“Oh, like you!” they turned to Alex with a smile and Hercules burst out laughing.

He was still chuckling by the time they got to Ben’s and Caleb’s and Lafayette was looking a bit nervous. They were fiddling with their sleeves and Hercules did not find adorable the way the sweater was too big on them and covered their chin and most of their hands. It was blue. Like their nails.

“You nervous?” he asked quietly as Alex took the pizza boxes, trying to find Caleb’s so he could spit on it. “Don’t be, they’re great. Ben’s my best friend.”

They looked down at him—because they were just _so_ tall. They were wearing heel, who wore heels when they were already tall as a skyscraper? For some reason it left Hercules a bit breathless.

“So it’s Ben and Caleb,” they whispered to themself. “Alright. Then there’s, ah, Anna and John. And Peggy from the shop. And…” they bit their lip. Hercules watched as they dragged their teeth through it and yet the lipstick was perfect when they pulled back. Witchcraft. “…Burr?”

“Burr’s an ass,” Caleb stated as he opened the door. “Oi! You’re proper cute! They/them, right? Come in, I’m Caleb.”

“Lafayette. It’s very nice to meet you,” they smiled shyly at him and shuffled inside, startling when they saw Ben. Hercules frowned, looking between his best friend and his guest. Ben was blushing. “Oh. _That_ Ben.”

“Not a word,” he pointed at Lafayette before kissing their cheeks. “Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“George and I are close,” they replied, humming. “Old friend of my family—you dating now?”

“No— _yes_ , uh,” Ben rubbed his face, still blushing. “Sorta?”

Hercules watched, astounded, as Lafayette crossed their arms and cocked their hip to the side. They wore a skirt, this flowy cotton thing that was gray with thick stockings underneath to protect them from the cold. The skirt moved. Hercules wondered why he liked it so much.

“Okay, it’s complicated,” Ben waved a hand. “Anyway, good to see you. Hammie, did you spit on Caleb’s?”

“No,” Alex lied.

“You’re a fucking arsehole,” Caleb spat as he grabbed his pizza, watching it sadly. “Lafayette gets the loveseat now.”

“Hey, no, that’s my spot!”

Caleb placed his hand on Alexander’s face as the shorter man tried to hit him in the stomach. It made for a very funny visual that had Lafayette giggling into their hands, their hair and their eyes shining in the yellow artificial lights and— _okay_ , they were too pretty. Too pretty. For—for _anything_. No one had the right to be so beautiful.

“Oh, hey, is this Lafayette?” Anna poked her head out of the kitchen and smiled brightly.

“Oui,” they nodded, walking over to her and, instead of receiving the handshake they expected, Anna hugged them. Hercules snickered a little—Anna truly was tiny. Not like Alex and not even like Caleb but compared to Lafayette’s tall figure she was, head pressing to their chest. “Ah, um, nice to meet you?”

“I’m Anna Strong!” she greeted, pulling back. “Welcome to the batcave, as our boys like to call it. Oh, your nails are so cute!” she grabbed their hand and Lafayette blushed slightly. Hercules did not think it was cute how they shied away from the onslaught of compliments Anna seemed to be laying on them. They were genuine: Anna was always genuine and she seemed to think what everyone did, that Lafayette was absolutely stunning. “Well, we should all sit down, today we’re gonna watch Spaceballs. You ever seen it?”

They shook their head and Caleb and Alex gasped, hyperdramatic, and Hercules rolled his eyes as he settled on the couch—and Lafayette sat beside him. He hadn’t really expected that, thought they’d move next to Alex but he wasn’t displeased. With a smile, Hercules reached for a beer and offered one to them, their fingers brushing his as they grabbed the can, smiling. His heart leaped. It was _ridiculous_.

“So have you seen Star Wars?” he asked them softly and they nodded quickly.

“Oh, yes, Pierre is awfully fond of the original trilogy,” they smiled.

“Pierre, your old friend from High School? That one dating Von Steuben?” Hercules was pretty sure he’d got it right and when they nodded he grinned. “Then I’m surprised you haven’t seen them.”

“My humor is a bit more sophisticated, Monsieur Mulligan,” they said, lifting their chin to adopt a haughty pose that made Hercules laugh. Ben shared a look with Anna. Alex slapped the TV. “In all honesty, I never had the chance.”

“Well, now you will,” Hercules grinned, sitting back.

Lafayette did laugh—a lot. They had an exaggeratedly funny laugh attack around the scene where the spaceballs began to comb the dessert, tears springing to their eyes and even Caleb stared as their smile blinded everyone. Hercules thought he was starting to feel fond for the tall Frenchperson.

They laughed. His breath hitched.

Yeah. Fond.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahaha, soooooo
> 
> I had no WiFi. I'm back. Please, don't kill me.

Hercules paused as he passed by the guest room, his hand gripping the towel over his shoulder, wet with his sweat. There was music coming from inside—and not only music. It was Lafayette singing.

He swallowed, leaning back to watch through the crack of the door as Lafayette sang, moving their hips, smiling with their eyes closed. They still wore their pajamas and it was barely eight in the morning but they just seemed so _happy_. After two weeks of tired smiles, empty eyes and shy shrugs of a shoulder, Hercules couldn’t believe they were in such a great mood.

Perhaps it was how they and Alexander seemed to get along swimmingly: the two often discussed and debated in rapid-fire French at late hours of the night in the balcony, a cigarette between their index and middle finger, leaning forward against the balustrade, their hair down and makeup gone. Hercules had walked in on that scenario about twice but he did not interrupt.

He’d also never admit that he wanted a private balcony conversation at four in the morning, too.

“Herc!” Lafayette’s voice cut through his haze and he snapped out of his thoughts, face burning when he blinked and realized Lafayette was watching him, giggling against their hand, eyes bright with amusement. God, they could laugh at him all they wanted if it meant they’d smile like that.

“Hey, sorry,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You just—well, you seemed in such a great mood.”

“I _am_ , and you know why?” they grinned, opening the door entirely. How Lafayette could wear booty pajama shorts in the end of October was a mystery but their long, shapely legs—and those _calves_ —uh, well, Hercules would not complain.

It was also a _huge_ mystery how Lafayette, whenever anyone looked, had a posture like a model. Their hip could be cocked like now, so casual and yet so appealing, a strip of skin revealed by their pink pajama shirt (hilarious to Lafayette, apparently, as it said _NO MAKE UP #nofilter_ ) and Caleb would pause, look at Alex and the YouTuber would simply shrug.

 _It’s Laf, man_.

It’s Lafayette.

“Why?” Hercules smiled, leaning back against the wall of the hallway, crossing his bare arms over his chest.

“Be _cause_ ,” their eyes sparkled and they giggled with delight. “It is almost Halloween!”

Oh. Lafayette was one of _those_ people. “You like Halloween?” he asked with a gentle smile.

“I have never had Halloween! And I am in the United States!” they seemed so excited, so happy. Maybe Halloween wasn’t that bad. “I want to do all the things you Americans do in Halloween! I want to go to ah, how do you say? Thrashy parties?”

“Trashy,” Hercules laughed. “Trashy parties.”

“Like in _Lolita Malgré Moi_! Mean Girls!” they bounced on their heels, their curls bounced and damn, Hercules had never seen anyone so excited over getting drunk in a commercial holiday “I want to put on a slut costume and do my makeup and go to a party and get drunk and have the whole experience!”

Hercules couldn’t help but laugh, grinning at them, “Well, Ben and Anna do love those parties. Caleb, too—not as much, but you’ll enjoy yourself with them. Alex will probably go just to get drunk.”

Their smile dropped a little and they frowned, “And you, _mon ami_? Won’t you come and enjoy Halloween _avec moi_?”

Oh, Christ, they were pouting. Hercules tried not to let his breath hitch but they had—had this _beautiful_ lips. Thick and plump and when they lined them with liquid, rouge lipstick it was sometimes too much.

Too much of what? Oh, hell.

“I’m… not that much into parties,” he confessed slowly.

“But I want you to come,” they pouted harder and ah, no, fuck, _fuck_ , their perfectly manicured hand was moving to his sweaty arm, pulling him close. “Please, _mon ami_? Please, please, _pleeeease_?” they wrapped both their arms around Hercules’ elbow, dropping their chin on his chest, batting their eyelashes. They could smell their sweet coconut perfume.

Something was beeping. Not like, _outside_ or anything, no, it was inside Hercules’ head. Warning bells. And those only came out during two specific scenarios: either Alexander was getting ready for a physical fight or he, Hercules, was about to do something really stupid.

And stupid he did.

“Alright,” he blurted out and his eyes honest-to-God fluttered when Lafayette let out a triumphant _oui!_ and _kissed his goddamn cheek_. “But I won’t be for much. Just a bit, okay?”

“ _Oui, oui_ , that’s all fine!” they threw their arms around his neck and he had to uncross his arm but that left him with dangerous thoughts. Where would he put his hands?! Their waist? Hips? Their lower back? God, those were all intimate places. He ended up with his hands falling limp at his sides, startled at how beautiful their eyes were up-close, how they shone like ambers in the lucky morning light that shone, their curls framing their features. “ _Merci_!”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered as they kissed his cheek against and quickly went back to their room. His eyes, with a mind of their own, went down their back to their—“Alright, man, time for a cold shower,” he muttered, rushing into the main bathroom.

* * *

 

It was a surprise for everything when Hercules announced he’d be attending the Schuyler’s Annual Halloween Party, taking place since 2009 when they were all stupid kids wanting to watch R-Rated horror movies in the Schuyler’s basement, everyone was a confused sort of delighted.

Caleb and Anna were over the moon about it, talking about going as a group with matching costumes. Alex had rolled his eyes, ever the party-pooper when it came to Halloween— _it’s the most commercial holiday after Christmas and I_ refuse _to be another victim of this shameless display of capitalism!_ —but as soon as Lafayette announced they were excited for it, Ben had snapped his eyes to Hercules and given him three rapid blinks of his cornflower eyes. Fuck.

So yeah, two days after the announcement, the apartment was thoroughly decorated to the nines for Halloween—courtesy of Lafayette and Anna going overboard—and Ben was watching him through narrowed eyes at eleven at night, both of them leaning on the balcony, the sound of Alexander’s and Lafayette’s laughter drifting from the office.

“Alright,” Hercules sighed, irritated, turning to Ben. “You’ve been watching me for about seven fucking minutes and you haven’t said anything. Just say it, Ben, whatever you’re thinking, you—”

“Is Lafayette single?”

Hercules’ mouth fell shut. He frowned, turning to Ben, opening his mouth before closing it again.

“I—uh—what?” he breathed.

“Is Lafayette single?” he repeated slowly, his honestly too long eyelashes moving down so he could look at Hercules from a lower angle—it made him look more condescending and Hercules kinda wanted to punch his lights out. “Are they dating anyone?”

“Why would _I_ know? Why do _you_ wanna know?” he asked defensively, shoulders hunching, starting to panic a little for some ridiculous reason.

Ben watched him with a frown, almost as if not believing him. Then he took a sip of his beer, gave a shrug with a cock of his eyebrow and returned into the apartment. Hercules gave a startled noise.

What the _fuck_ had just happened?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna hear my excuses, do drop by at the end of the chapter! If not, just enjoy this bittersweet piece of fluff that is the following chapter. Happy December, everyone.

It was calm that morning when Hercules closed the shop. Ben had tugged his coat close to his body and sniffed a little, dismissing his best friend when he suggested to go home instead of following Anna into her insane Halloween costume shopping. Hercules sighed as Ben left and, slowly, the baker let his chin rest over his hands, piled on top of the broom he was using.

Soft indie music was still playing, the kind that Ben liked to listen to when he was feeling particularly sappy. Hercules just let him be—why wouldn’t he? Ben had good taste. The songs were good. Sad, but good. It went with the rain, the wind, the general mood of the day. He was pensive, too, today. He hadn’t seen Alex or Lafayette all day.

The two had gone out to—to—well, God knows where, to meet a few fans and do some vlog or something. Alex didn’t really like to go to many events just in case people realized what was between his legs but with Lafayette’s encouragement, he’d been able to have the guts. That’d been obscenely early in the morning and, as ridiculous as it was, Hercules felt lonely.

He switched from Mumford & Sons to Amongster by Poliça, closing his eyes slowly, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain.

Hercules felt lonely. And perhaps it wasn’t just today.

He realized so as he began to mop the floor, letting out a soft sound—not quite a sigh, not quite a whine. It wasn’t like he was truly lonely; he had Ben and he had Alex and Caleb and John from time to time. He had Anna. There was Peggy. There was that cute regular who always batted her eyelashes at him when she asked for the chocolate chip cupcake with her tea.

So why did he—

“Ah! Here it is!” a heavily accented voice said, designer boots leaving wet, muddy spots on the floor. Hercules looked at Lafayette with unmasked surprise, eyes wide. “Oh, it’s so cute! It smells good too!”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, thinking it’d come off as rude but it only sounded weak and feeble when it left his lips.

Lafayette undid the knot of their scarf with deft fingers, makeup flawless despite the wet, the rain, the wind. Their nails were a deep, dark orange with hints of black today. In the Halloween spirit for sure. They approached Hercules as they left their coat on a nearby, small, rounded table and wrapped their hands around the shaft of the mop, smiling gently.

“Ben sent me a text,” they said and since when did these two _text_? “Said you had a, how do you say?” they glanced at their phone. “Blue day. Bad day. You looked sad, he said. You do.”

“I do?” he asked quietly.

“Alex told me,” they whispered softly, fingers moving up the plastic handle to brush over his hands.

Hercules was quick to move—he was moping enthusiastically, almost furiously. He’d basically ripped the mop from Lafayette’s grasp, laughing as if to dismiss their words that way.

“Laf, it was a long time ago,” he chuckled. “What’s it matter? Nah, I’m just tired, dude. Got all this work in October when everyone wants a warm drink and Ben’s too lovestruck to—”

“I think,” Lafayette cut in, heels of their boots making a _click-clack_ sound on the tiles as they moved closer and gently slid the mop from Hercules’ grasp. “I think out of everyone here, I understand.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Hercules swallowed a little as he leaned against a column and rubbed the back of his neck. “I—why did Alex tell you? What did he tell you?”

They shrugged, playing with the fraying plastic of the shaft of the mop, nails scratching there. They were nervous. They’d never risk their polish so stupidly if it wasn’t for a nervous habit.

“There, um, there was a girl,” they whispered. “And he said you lost her. Around this time,” their eyes moved shyly to his. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

No, he didn’t. He didn’t at all. It’d been three years since then and Lafayette out of all people didn’t need anymore weight on their back. They were _not_ someone who needed people dropping their sorrows on them. But Hercules _did_ want to tell them. Yet at the same time he didn’t. He felt shame, felt embarrassment.

“I asked her to marry me,” he blurted out. “And—”

Hercules shuffled his feet. Lafayette scratched away the red plastic. The song changed from Amongster to Heartbeats by José González. Hercules sighed and undid the knot of his apron, letting it fall to another table. Lafayette watched as he moved to get the mop and put it away, gesturing for them to sit. They did, elegantly and eagerly, flopping down.

Hercules went behind the bar and began to prepare some hot chocolate with cinnamon, talking over the sounds of the machines.

“She said she didn’t love me anymore,” he said, firmly, voice unwavering. “She sat me down, placed her hand over mine, and told me that it just wasn’t working for her anymore. She didn’t feel anything for me. She loved me—yet not the way that I loved her. Her name was Eliza. And back then she was my world; the reason I moved to New York. The reason I followed my wants and opened up this shop. The reason I…” he sighed. “The reason I started to be a bit more open-minded. She did a lot for me, as I did for her. We lived together for a year and I grew accustomed to her face, her voice, her touch. You ever had that?” he asked softly, now bringing over the two big mugs to the table, sitting in front of them.

Lafayette cupped their mug, which was red, matte. It had a snowflake. They shook their head and, when they looked up, there was longing in their eyes. No, they hadn’t, but they wanted that.

“I guess we were young?” Hercules pondered after a sip, looking up, stretching his legs so they brushed against Lafayette’s. He crossed his arms and sighed, head tipped back, eyes closed. “We thought we knew each other so well. Came home, kissed, looked after the cat, ate dinner together. I knew how to make her coffee and she knew how to wake me up. But it was all we had—habits, I guess. Then she fell out of love with me and—and hey, it happens, I couldn’t blame her,” he whispered. “Never did.”

“It’s sad,” they murmured. “Not—not you, but the situation. I was in love once,” they admitted. “And we fell out of touch. She left my life and we, ah, gradually? Gradually stopped talking. One day, I realized it had been a year since I had spoken to her. I had forgotten about her.”

“It happens,” he repeated.

“It happens,” they nodded, staring at their beverage. “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Hercules looked up at the ceiling again.

There was silence.

“Where is she now?” Lafayette asked after a few sips to their admittedly delicious drink.

“She’s, ah, in Vancouver, I think?” Hercules shrugged. “She’s a good rigger—animation stuff. She drew. Always knew how.”

“You speak to her?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You miss her?”

“I miss sleeping next to someone. Waking up next to someone. Having someone to kiss, someone to share those quiet moments in the morning, when nothing is awake and your eyes feel heavy. I miss being so in love that nothing makes sense anymore but the way your heart beats faster and faster, how the blood courses through your veins. I miss having no routine but a calendar of passion. I miss making love. I miss waking up next to someone. I miss waking up next to someone I love.”

Another silence. Hercules didn’t speak, eyes moving to the window. He thought of saying something, anything, just to break it. But why do it? It’s not uncomfortable. It never is with Lafayette and it scares him.

God, they scare the shit out of him.

“Well,” Lafayette sighed after a moment, smiling despite the situation, leaving the empty mug on the table before standing. “Let’s go.”

Hercules frowned. “What? Where?”

They pulled their scarf once more around their neck and grabbed his coat, helping him into it despite the fact that he could do it himself. He loved it, though, obeying to their demanding hands until they were at his neck, working on his scarf now. It was wooly and warm, warmer with Lafayette’s chest touching his.

“Let’s go,” they repeated, grasping his hand.

They both closed the shop—music still playing, mugs dirty, his phone inside and the mop against the wall. Lafayette held his hand the entire time as they walked through the city under the protection of a red umbrella. Lafayette spoke of France and the differences between Auvergne and New York, spoke with lips painted a soft pink, lashes that touched their cheeks softly, hands gripping his arm and the umbrella.

Hercules stared. And he did so completely unashamed, watching their eyes and how warm they were, how sincere and positive and alive they were and with great satisfaction, he let them rest their head against his shoulder on the way back to the apartment, hours and hours later, when their hands were shaking from the cold and his feet felt numb.

“Hey! Where—oh,” Alex paused as he saw the two of them at the door. “I was worried, guys. Where were you?”

“Around,” Hercules shrugged, a small smile painted on his lips. Lafayette looked at him, grinning, and when he looked back at them the two shared a soft laugh, pushing a little at each other. Lafayette left to take a shower. Hercules went out to the balcony to watch the black, starless sky.

Alexander watched Hercules for a moment before running a hand through his hair and nodding to himself, shrugging. Very well.

Very well.

Lafayette was beside him, in his bed, when Hercules awoke the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm sad.
> 
> It's not even like, a real kind of sad. I guess it's about things changing really fast - and I'm the first one to say that I love change because I do. But I've started college and my parents are now moving to another country and my sister and I officially broke ties and I
> 
> I'm moving out of my parent's arms. I'm doing my career and taking care of myself. I don't live alone, I live with my cousin yet I feel like things are about to really, really drastically change. And I'm sad and happy about it. Happy because I'm finally kind of free? Because I can express my gender with no fear to make my mother sad? But sad because I feel like I know I will get further and further away from my family. That I know I'm going to leave to another path, to take another way, to leave.
> 
> The thing is, I'm going to leave in about three years or so. And time goes by fast. And I'm almost twenty, it's just a month away. I miss being a kid. I don't miss high school but I miss the unawareness of it all. Of worrying only about one thing and not money or careers or jobs or food or anything like that. It feels good, at the same time - again, because y'know, freedom but
> 
> Not a kid anymore. Not a teen. An adult. It's bittersweet, like this chapter. I'm sorry it took so long. Enjoy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So another one. Yes. there you go.

Hercules awoke with hair tickling his nose and, as he opened his eyes, he realized why. He froze for a moment, eyes widening but when Lafayette shifted closer and pressed their cheek further into his chest, deep asleep, he immediately relaxed. Slowly, gently—God, _so very slowly_ , he brushed away a few wild curls from their eyes, watching them sleep, their lithe body curled up against his. In this position, at this angle, they almost looked tiny. Like a child.

Hercules grasped the duvet and moved it tightly around Lafayette, making sure they didn’t get cold. He gingerly moved himself on his back, the non-binary, beautiful French person sliding so their head and half their chest rested on his, head tucked under his chin. His heartbeat was insanely fast, blood pumping as if adrenaline-fueled by their smell, their skin, their breathing, their closeness.

He’d felt alone because he’d had lack of touch, he realized.

Hercules breathed out slowly, suddenly feeling the urge to grasp their face, to watch their brown eyes, to touch their plump lips with a thumb. He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. But he longed to.

And thus it began.

Lafayette awoke and, instead of the awkward conversation Hercules thought they’d have, they just smile at him lazily and snuggled into his chest, whispering a good morning to him in soft French. They stretched—just like a cat, he may add—and left his bed and, well, now he noticed that they still only wore booty shorts to bed and an oversized shirt with a cartoon bread on it with googly eyes and rosy cheeks. It was ridiculous how much Hercules focused on it so his eyes wouldn’t drift lower.

“Breakfast, oui?” they asked him and Hercules nodded, a bit dumbly, standing from his bed. “Ah, perhaps you should take a shower, cherí, you smell… manly,” they giggled at that and Hercules rolled his eyes, yawning as he passed them, patting their side. Why did he do that? Why did he have to discover the exact curve of their torso? “I’ll start making breakfast!” they announced as he stepped into the shower.

Hercules did _not_ touch his dick in the shower, much as he saw their pert little ass leaving his bed, hips swaying, long legs going on for miles—Hercules was better than that. He may have been touch-starved but he’s got a lot of respect for Lafayette; who was currently making breakfast. He wondered if they were any good at cooking as he dried his body and pulled on some sweats and a Columbia hoodie, moving to the kitchen where Lafayette was _still wearing those distracting shorts, goddamn it_ , doing—cinnamon toast?

“Smells good,” he hummed, approaching them, looking at the pan over their shoulder.

“Yeah?” they grinned at him, turning their head, their nose touching his jaw. He swallowed.

“Yup,” he nodded, voice soft. “I’ll make some coffee.”

“Cappuccino, please,” they said as they hummed to some mindless pop song, the two fiddling around the kitchen. Hercules tried not to think about how domestic the entire thing was, how he found himself thinking that he definitely did not mind being like this with them. At all. “Done!”

“Almost,” Hercules returned, their back to them, taking a few spices to put onto their coffee when he felt long limbs wrapping around his waist. At first he tensed, not expecting them, but Lafayette’s soft hands rubbed at his chest, warming him up from the cold of the kitchen, and he sighed, leaning back a bit. “You’re cuddly today.”

“I’m happy today,” they whispered, kissing his shoulder. “It’s Halloween.”

“Huh,” he chuckled. “Didn’t notice. The house admittedly looks spookier than usual,” he teased and they giggled, a bright sound that truly warmed him up. He turned around, brandishing their mugs, giving Lafayette their cappuccino. They took it with a grateful smile, not moving away from his personal space—and he didn’t mind either, the two of them not truly wanting to break the comfortable morning silence.

“So,” Lafayette said as they moved to sit at one of the kitchen stool, crossing their legs as they bit into their toast. “What is your costume?”

“Oh, I’m not dressing up,” he chuckled. “It’s not really my thing.”

Their gasp, albeit cute, was enough to let Hercules know he was _not_ going to get away with this.

“Get into the spirit, Hercules!” they exclaimed, slapping their hand against the counter of the island. “You know what? You and I are going to go shopping!”

“Laf, I really don’t—”

“Marie.”

Hercules paused, frowning, looking at them with confused browns. “What?”

“You can call me Marie,” they said softly, shyly, their eyes trained on the contents of their mug. Perhaps Hercules was hallucinating due to pheromones or pollution from the city or some LSD left from his college days but it seemed as if they were _blushing_. Hercules swallowed.

“Alright,” he said softly, sitting in front of them, on the other stool. “Marie.”

They smiled, an expression of happiness shining through as they laughed quietly into their coffee. Hercules couldn’t help but mirror it, wanting to reach out and touch them. Huh. His cuddling session hadn’t been enough to put at bay his touch starved urged. Perhaps he should ask Alex for a few hugs.

“So, Marie,” he began. “I’m not a… costume guy. I can’t pull them off well.”

“You can just go naked and say you’re a Terminator,” they put innocently and Hercules almost spit out his coffee. “Or say you’re Tarzan.”

“It’s too cold outside to be in the nude,” he mumbled, wiping his lips from any dark coffee stains. Those were not attractive.

“To be beautiful, sacrifices must be made,” they waggled their finger at him. “Will I get hypothermia tonight? Probably. Will I care? Probably not. Will I look cute and trashy and will I get lots of compliments? I definitely will.”

“What are you dressing up as?” he asked, feeling slightly nervous. A slutty costume. Fuck, that was _not_ what Hercules needed.

“You’ll see,” their eyes shone with mischief and Hercules fretted for his life. “In any case!” they chirped, jumping up, eating the last of their cinnamon toast, “It’s time we get dressed and leave to get your costume!”

“Marie—”

“Please?” they asked him, stepping closer, their arms moving around his neck. His breath hitched and he felt his insides flip over as their knee moved on his lap, their pretty lips downturned in a pout. “S’il vois plaît?” they begged, eyes wide, doe-like. Hercules about melted and he nodded helplessly, loving the bright smile that ignited on Lafayette’s face. They smooched his cheek, making an exaggerated sound as they parted, and skipped away. Hercules sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Fuck.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in class and I should be programming but oops I wrote a chapter instead.

The party was wild. Hercules had only stepped a foot inside and he already knew he was in for a shaky night. He straightened his costume—a Continental Army uniform, fitting to a T because Lafayette rolled that way—and stepped aside, trying not to stare too hard at his non-binary friend. Alex rushed in after them, ready to party and get drunk and pass out drunk as he always did, sobbing about John and how much he missed him. But Hercules couldn’t really focus on that but on the way Lafayette’s dress rode up as they took a seat on the counter of the kitchen, accepting a drink from Peggy and swinging their legs.

They were Roxy Hart, from Chicago. Had a gun and their makeup was flawless and their dress was so scant, it spiked up Hercules’ blood whenever he got a peek of velvet chocolate skin of their thigh. His hand was tight around his cup, hoping it wouldn’t break and demonstrate just how much his dick was twitching inside his pants just cause a pretty person batted their eyelashes at him.

Cause God, were they flirty tonight. They had their leg touching his side, their elbow on his shoulder, leaning against him as Angelica spoke of a funny story that had happened to her once regarding Thomas Jefferson. They also laughed and leaned more and more into him and, back in the car, they’d been basically thigh to thigh with him.

Fuck, they were _flirting_.

“Hey, hey, _hey_!” Ben complained as Hercules pulled him out to the back porch of the house, hand on his arm, dragging him away. “What’s wrong with you, man? The party’s back there!”

“I think I’m not straight,” he blurted out, eyes wide, panting a little. “Ben, I—I think I’m not straight.”

Benjamin blinked at him, wondering what the fuck was going on with his best friend when he realized it, “Oh, you mean you’ve the hots for Laf? Yeah, we all knew,” he nodded. “It’s fairly obvious.”

“Ben, you don’t unders—oh, for fuck’s sake, you _do_ understand! You’re gay!” he groaned. “I’m so fucking confused.”

“What’s there to be confused about?” his best friend gave a shrug, sitting on one of the benches of the back porch, patting it to indicate Hercules to sit, which he did. He flopped down and rubbed his face, eyes watering a little. “Hey, you okay? It’s fine, man, you know that, right?”

“I was supposed to—I mean, I don’t,” he groaned. “I really did think I was straight, Ben. It’s so fucking weird. Now I gotta—I gotta come _out_ ,” his guts flipped when he realized he’d have to tell his father, his mother. “ _Fuck_.”

“Yeah,” Ben chuckled, amused. “Fuck indeed. Now you know.”

“I wasn’t supposed to—to _not_ be straight. You all have tried to text my sexuality for so fucking long and now, now this—this _person_ strolls in like it’s nothing and turns my whole world upside down! How is that fair?”

“It’s not,” Ben said quietly, a soft smile on his face. “It’s not fair. But would you have it any other way?” he asked.

Hercules fell quiet, gnawing on his lip. Ben sighed, gave a helpless shrug, leaned into his knees.

“You see, I—I never thought I’d date an older man. Then I met George,” he put in gently. “I never thought I’d date a businessman; then I met George. I never thought I’d fall in love so very slowly, so gradually, so… so simply. Then,” he smiled. “I met George.”

Hercules watched his best friend, saw him touch that new shiny watch he sported since July. It was true that Ben looked much, much calmer since George had come into his life, as if he were a grounding factor. Hercules had only seen him a handful of times yet he’d always been polite to him, asking for a coffee or a muffin if Ben wasn’t there.

“It’s not about gender,” Ben told him. “It truly isn’t. I call myself gay because it’s easier—for my parents, the people around me, those who need to put everything into a single word to understand but it’s more complex than that; it’s about falling in love with the mind, with the intelligence that matches yours, the capability they have to understand who you are, _know_ your deepest, darkest thoughts and still, _still_ love you despite it all. Still think you’re a good person. Still think that you’re worth their time, their effort, their heart,” Ben murmured, looking at Hercules. “Forget gender. Forget all that stuff about being straight or not. You are Hercules, you—you just _are_. And if you’ve met someone so wonderful that they’ve swept you away and made you change what you thought was the structure of your world then god _damn_ it, Hercules, seize it. Grab them and don’t let go, okay? I’ve seen you let go,” he said softly. “Don’t do that to yourself again.”

Hercules winced, looking away, “I had to—”

“No, you didn’t,” Ben shook his head. “You didn’t, Herc. You gave up. Don’t give up with Laf.”

“I’m not even sure if they—”

“Bullshit,” Ben laughed. “they like you as much as you like them, if not more. So go to that party, grab them by the waist and plant a fat, big one of their lips. Come on,” he shoved at his best friend and Hercules smiled at him, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Hugging now?”

“Just one,” Hercules promised, holding him tight. “You’re the best.”

“I try,” Ben smirked, shooing him away.

Hercules stood, breathing in, then out, then in, then out, and stepped back into the house, where Lafayette was now giving it a try at pool, half drunk, laughing loudly over some stupid shit Caleb had said. Anna was giggling into her hands and Alex was leaning into Peggy, babbling away. Hercules stepped into the circle easily, like a missing puzzle piece, fitting next to Lafayette and Alex, watching them smile brightly at him.

Ben was right. Whatever he was, whoever he was, he was still himself. No matter what.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the lovely, lovely comments you've all left! I didn't think anyone would still be reading this but welcome back! And to those who are beginning to read, welcome! Holographic is honestly such a fun piece to write and it's not heavy or dramatic at all, to be honest. It's cute, fluffy, and short.
> 
> I DO think, though, that after this one I may just write another AU that's heavy with plot. Perhaps a Harry Potter AU or something like that. Magical of some sort, I guess. I could have a take on Vampire Masquerade, even! I really don't know, what do you guys think? Also, should the pairing be Herc/Laf again? Because I'm leaning towards George/Laf or even John/Laf. Leave your thoughts in the comments!

Lafayette was playing pool when Hercules came back sans Ben, looking like he’s just won the lottery. They laughed at his grin, leaning against the pool table and taking his drink from his hand boldly before taking a sip, eyes on his the entire time.

“What? Something good happen?” they teased against the rim, waiting for his shy smile and small blush, waiting for him to look away, to step back, to run away from their flirting. As he always did.

Yet he didn’t.

He grabbed the cup from their hands, separating their mouth from it and taking a sip, licking his lips, stepping further into their space with his hand moving to the edge of the pool table, between their hip and their hand, smirking as he got all into their space. Lafayette’s breath hitched and their cheeks warmed, and not from the alcohol.

“Without you there? I wouldn’t dare,” he joked back, voice low, hand shifting so his thumb stroked their clothed hip. Lafayette couldn’t help it—they bit their lip at his proximity, looking down a little before glancing into his eyes, the universal sign of _I’m interested in you oh, please, do something_. “What’ve you been doing?”

“Playing pool,” they said, pouting at him, one hand moving over his shoulder so their wrist rested there, fingers playing with his short curls. “But I’ve no idea how to play. They’re making fun of me.”

“Well, lucky for you…” he grabbed them by their hip, pulling them flush against him, turning them around slowly. “I’m considered the greatest pool champion this house has ever seen.”

They bit their lip and grinned through it, only then noticing how everyone—and they meant _everyone_ —was watching them and Hercules with matching expressions of utter surprise. What? Was Hercules really shy and alcohol had loosened him up? Perhaps it’d been Ben? What had they talked about? What had been so urgent, so important that when it was over, Hercules was now this confident?

Hercules’ voice broke through their thoughts, lips brushing their ear and hands squeezing their hips as he said, “Bend over.”

Alexander’s jaw dropped and Lafayette gave a laugh before doing just so, bending over the pool table and aiming towards the white ball, trying to see if it’d hit the solid red one. Hercules clucked his tongue and manhandled them into the right position, probably knowing how amazing this was for Lafayette—weeks and weeks of Hercules being hesitant, being shy, being unsure and now? Now he was all solid courage, hard muscles and firm hands against their body.

“See?” he began. “If you want to hit that one, then you need to—”

They couldn’t wait to drop on their knees for him.

“—bend your arm this way. Your hand’s position is wrong, the stick will move too—”

Because the shy thing? It’d—it’d been cute, at first. Or, well, really, _the whole time_. It was endearing to see Hercules, almost their height with twice their body mass, deep voice and big hands being all cute and soft-spoken. He baked—he was a _baker_. A baker, honestly, how was Lafayette so fucking _lucky_?

“—freely if you open your palm that way. Why don’t you try—”

And he wasn’t just a cute little baker, no, he had _depth_ within him. He looked out for his friends, looked out for Alexander and his insane ideas and insane outbursts of charity and anger and passion. He watched over the tiny, sickly hamster from the lady two floors down when she left for three days. He patted Caleb on the back when he looked down, he sat down to listen to Anna rant about her mother, he laughed at Peggy’s terrible jokes and—

“—putting your palm down—yeah, that way, _perfect_ , sweetheart—”

And he held still, watched and listened closely when Lafayette had spoken about _nail polish_ of all things. He could be so uninterested in it, and he probably was, yet he was there as they ranted about vinyl sheets and types of colors and how one took care of their nails.

“—and now you’ve got to put the stick between your index and middle, that way—”

He was a good man. Lafayette had no idea why in the world there would be someone who could fall out of love with him when they were so smitten with the way his lips curved upwards, how his cheeks darkened, how his hands held them, how his voice rumbled deep within his chest. Right here, right now, with Hercules’ affection now so very obviously returned, Lafayette was wondering what was stopping them from turning around and kissing him senseless.

“—hit it.”

The white ball flew from the end of the impact and hit red, a fluid move that made two balls—solid color—enter the hole. Caleb groaned as Lafayette jumped a little, giddy, cheeks bright as they threw their arms around Hercules.

“Amazing!” they gasped, laughing, pulling away so their noses touched and they could look at him in the eye. “Now _that_ ,” they poked his chest as his hands went around their hips again. “Is one hell of a lesson.”

“Well, you’re a fast learner,” he retorted with a cocky smile. Confidence suited him so fucking well. “Perhaps I should teach you more things.”

“Oh, like what?” they flirted.

“Oi! Get a fucking room, you both! You’re making me sick!” Caleb threw them an empty cup and Lafayette gasped as Hercules flipped him off, still grinning, the two of them laughing.

“Fuck off, Brewster!” Hercules spat playfully. “It’s your turn!”

Their chest was now against his, fully flushed, body heat passing to them. Lafayette let their head rest on his shoulder and watched as Caleb moved around the table, sighing softly. They were so comfortable there, in his arms. It was ridiculous. Just a month and he had them roped to him. Perhaps—

Perhaps Adrienne had been right.

Perhaps coming to America had been just a crazy, crazy adventure.

One Lafayette was decided to exploit.


	12. Chapter 12

Hercules wasn’t drunk.

No, no—he _really_ wasn’t drunk because if he _were_ , then Lafayette would’ve been already fallen on their back due to his weight and their red lipstick would’ve been all over his lips, his teeth, his tongue as well as their own. But as it was, Hercules was pretty much sober.

Lafayette wasn’t.

“ _Hercccc_ ,” their accent was thick, leg stretching so that the tip of their insanely tall heels touched his knee. Their pout was wet, thick, trembling as if they truly were about to cry but their eyes held a deep, dark, sultry meaning. Hercules laughed breathlessly as tried to escape their grasp but their nose nuzzled his neck, other leg tightening around his waist.

“You’re drunk,” he told them, shaking his head. He’d be more amused if he didn’t fear everyone would see just how much this was affecting them. “And you’re going to fall,” he said, pointing at their risky position on the counter of the kitchen.

“Well, you’re boring,” they whined, nails scratching his scalp, making him shiver. Their pout disappeared into a smirk and they leaned in, lips ready to find his but he dodged them. “ _Herc!_ ”

“If you were sober, we’d be kissing already,” he chided, rolling his eyes. “But it seems you just had to have yet another cup of sex on the beach.”

“I was trying to nudge you over in the right direction,” they slurred before mumbling something in French as they tried to pull him closer, his hip right between their legs. “Let’s go back.”

“If we do, you’ll try and trick me, you little witch,” he pulled away from that tell-tale warmth, the way he’d felt their hardness behind a thin layer of underwear. Shit, did they wear lingerie?

“You’re way too nice,” they mumbled into his collarbones, hands roaming his back. “You’re—you’re so perfect. Bake me things.”

Hercules laughed, shaking his head, kissing their curls with a big grin. “Well, I don’t think I’m perfect but I do need basic consent to kiss you and you’re currently drunk, Marie. I’m not into consent play, sorry.”

“Hmm, what about other kinds of play?” they tried to purr, sexy, but they garbled it a little and blinked slowly at him from his chest, slightly sleepy.

Hercules smiled fondly, one hand moving to cup their cheek, rubbing their skin with his thumb. He loved the way they leaned into it and their eyes fluttered shut, sighing. They were so fucking adorable drunk—a menace, yes, but adorable nonetheless.

“As soon as you clear your head up, we’ll go home,” he told them kindly, softly, pressing a kiss to their forehead. “And tomorrow I will kiss you if it’s really what you want.”

“It is,” they bemoaned, puckering their lips, straightening their back to press them to his but Hercules dodged again. “ _Ngh!_ ”

“Sobriety,” he reminded them, rubbing their back.

Lafayette didn’t try to kiss him or rub up against him again, which was good because Hercules had only so much self-control when a willing and pliant Frenchperson was in his arms, legs spread to make room for him. They simply lay against his body, arms around his torso, dozing off with their eyes closed and their mouth a little bit open, breathing quietly as the party died down.

“Here,” Ben came over with a cup full of cool water, chuckling. “Good party, Laf?”

“Everything’s spinning,” they slurred, making a sound of protest when Hercules shifted to grasp the cup, lifting it to their lips. “Wha’s tha’?”

“Water, sweetheart,” Hercules said, amused. “Drink up.”

“If I drink, you kiss me?” they blinked owlishly at him, hope shining in them.

“Sure,” he chuckled.

Ben laughed as Lafayette gobbled it up, drinking it in a few swallows before watching Hercules eagerly, only to whine as he kissed their forehead again.

“Never said where,” he laughed as they weakly beat at his chest with their fists. “Now come on, it’s time you move a little.”

“But you’re warm,” they sighed, burying their face on his neck, hand grasping at his shoulders. “I don’t wanna move, Herc…”

“We can cuddle plenty back at home,” he told them softly, stepping away and lowering their dress since it’d ridden up slightly. His hand found theirs and he helped them stand on their wobbly legs. “Can you walk, baby girl?”

“I c—you called me baby girl,” they interrupted themself and grinned dopily at him, looking even drunker. Ben hid a smile behind his hand, feeling as if he were witnessing something too especial but not being able to look away.

“I did,” Hercules said softly, his free hand moving modestly to their lower back. “Now, wait here and let me get out coats, okay? I’ll carry you out if you can’t walk.”

“ _D’accord_ ,” they whispered, leaning against the counter, yawning, rubbing their face. Their makeup stayed. How the fuck did they do it?

“Be right back,” he promised, only then pointing at Ben. “Take care of them.”

“Yes, sir,” he teased, watching him leave. “So you’re hammered.”

“Huh?” they ‘looked at Ben and frowned at him. “ _Quoi?_ ”

“Hammered,” Ben repeated. “Drunk off your face. Pissed. Shitfaced.”

“ _Oui_ ,” they groaned. “I, ah, got nervous.”

“About?” Ben asked, already knowing the answer to that as he gently took their arm and helped them into a steady position. Their legs were too wobbly and Jesus Christ, with those heels, of course they couldn’t walk.

“He’s shy,” they muttered into their now empty cup of water. “Every time he talked he was shy with me so I thought he was always shy but now he’s—” they blushed, a rush of color blooming on their cheekbones. They mumbled something under their breath and Ben frowned.

“Sorry? Didn’t hear that,” he apologized and Lafayette took a deep breath.

“He’s sexy,” they said, sounding embarrassed. “Confidence is good on him. He’s… he’s very sexy.”

“Hercules is always sexy,” Ben defended his best friend with a little laugh.

“I _know_ ,” they made a sound of frustration. “But he is more _now_.”

“Yeah, well, he was freaking out about his sexuality before,” Ben shrugged and Lafayette froze.

“Wait, what?” they asked, accent much thicker with surprise dripping from their voice. “He what?”

“You didn’t know Hercules considered himself straight?” Ben blinked at them, equally surprised. “Oh, um. Well, he did? Until you, of course. He was actually the token cishet guy in our group.”

Lafayette blinked at him, astonished, their hand moving to cup their own cheek as they blushed further. Ben had the impression that would play out in Hercules’ favor.

“Oh,” they breathed, watching Hercules approach them with their coat along his own. “ _Oh_.”

“What’s with the face?” he chuckled as he stepped over to them, helping them into their coat. “What did you tell them, Ben?”

“Nothing,” he replied innocently before patting his back. “Have a goodnight, man. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“See you on Monday,” he smiled, waving at him before turning back to Lafayette, buttoning up their thick, black coat as they watched his face with doe-like eyes. “What did he say?”

“Sober,” they whispered. “When I’m sober, better.”

“Ah, so you’re not as drunk,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Good. Still want me to carry you?”

“Please,” they breathed and they gasped as he wrapped one arm around the back of their knees, lifting them up bridal-style. “Ah!”

“Let’s say bye to everyone, okay?” he said softly, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room. Alex was, indeed, passed out drunk and Angelica played with his hair as Peggy cleaned some trash, Eliza lounging with her phone on another couch. “We’re leaving already. You girls take care of Alex, okay?”

“You know we always do,” Eliza sent him a lovely, kind smile. “Need help with Laf? You sober?”

“Only had one cup at the start of the night,” he promised. “I’ll drive us home before this one falls asleep on me. We’ll be fine. Happy Halloween.”

“Happy Halloween!” they Schuyler sisters sang before he closed the door and approached his car, humming under his breath as Lafayette clung to his coat, hands curled around the fabric.

The ride took much less time than when they’d arrived—it was awfully late, around three in the morning, and Lafayette was almost asleep when Hercules carried them into the apartment he shared with Alex.

“Hey, Marie?” he whispered to them, nudging them slightly, making them blink. “Ri? We’re home.”

“I needa take off my makeup,” they whispered tiredly. “N’ clothes. Help me?”

“Nice try,” he chuckled and they smiled weakly. “Alright, take a shower and you’ll feel much better. How drunk are you still?”

“I’m more sober than drunk,” they said honestly. “Nothing spins anymore. My head feels light, though,” they sighed. “I can shower.”

“Good,” he let them back on the floor and Lafayette stumbled over to the couch, reaching for their heels but Hercules still felt chivalrous, kneeling in front of them to unbuckle their shoes and take them off their feet, massaging them slightly. “Bet—”

“As soon as I wake up,” they told him very seriously. “I am going to swallow your dick.”

Hercules choked on his own saliva, ears burning, placing their heels down.

“You sure know how to go from zero to sixty,” he mumbled under his breath.

“You’re so nice,” they groaned. “You’re so perfect.”

“You keep saying that and I’m gonna end up believing it,” he teased, helping them up and finally, Lafayette could walk. They didn’t stumble at all. “You good?”

“Yeah,” they yawned. “Let me shower and I’ll be right with you.”

Hercules paused, small smile appearing. Sleeping next to them again, okay, he could do that. He actually loved to do that. He also loved to see them walk away in that tiny little dress with their swaying hips but _again_ —consent. Sobriety. Good things.

The Irishman went into his bedroom and proceeded to take off his costume, glad to be out of his cravat, slipping on some boxers and pajama pants along with a worn, thin shirt. He was currently placing some Advil and a glass of water on his nightstand when Lafayette strolled into his room wearing an oversized shirt and those damn pajama shorts, stretching, looking much more sober and much, much better.

“Hi,” they whispered to him.

“Hi,” he smiled softly, pulling away the covers of his bed. God, it looked so inviting. “Wanna join me?”

“I’d love to,” they smiled back, shy and a little embarrassed as they padded over to his bed and joined him inside, sighing at how warm and nice it was to be pressed up against him. “I suppose that kiss still has to wait until tomorrow?”

“It’s for the best,” Hercules told them. “Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“In case that you regret it.”

Lafayette fell quiet as the two settled into a good sleeping position, with them draped over his chest and one of his arms wrapped around their waist.

“I could never regret you,” they whispered.

Hercules closed his eyes, a smile on his lips, and soon enough Lafayette was deep asleep alongside him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a big mistake from my part and the first, second and THIRD version of this goddamn chapter god erased. I wrote it three times at first because I had no fucking idea how I wanted to go about this and I WROTE IT A FOURTH TIME AND BY NOW I DON'T GIVE A FUCK, HERE, HAVE SOME SMUT, LEAVE ME ALONE WITH MY EXAMS TO DIE!

Hercules awoke with dawn, blinking and breathing softly, eyelashes fluttering as consciousness came back to him. He yawned, about to stretch when he realized there was a weight over him, remembering—Lafayette. Oh.

He looked down, surprised to find them awake and very much okay. There were no signs of hangover on their face and, well, of course they would be the kind of person to be fresh as a rose after a night of crazy drinking, all doe eyes and wandering hands over his chest until they settled on his stomach, their weight comforting over his body.

“Good morning,” he breathed.

“Good morning,” they purred at him, eyes lidding, their intentions clear. “So.”

“So,” he laughed nervously, waiting for the words he knew were about to spill from their pretty lips.

“I’m sober,” they announced, their eyes intense, on his, ready for him to challenge them.

“You are,” he whispered.

“I,” they began, sitting up between his legs—how did they get there? What the fuck, Hercules couldn’t breathe. “Am going to suck your cock. Do you have any objections?”

Hercules shifted, sat up as well, bit his lip, watched their face.

“Well,” he began with a deep breath. “Uh, I did promise you a kiss.”

“Oui,” they looked amused, chuckling, their lips curling up into a sort of goofy smile. “Yes, you did. Come here,” they curled their index finger at him, ever so smooth, their other hand grasping the back of his neck and pulling him into a real sitting position.

Hercules was basically in their lap as he, finally, was just an inch away from their face, eyes fleeting over their perfect features. Perfect eyes, perfect nose, perfect lips, perfect eyebrows and lids and lashes and cheeks and cheekbones, their breath mixing with his and fuck. He was a goner. He was such a fucking goner.

“Ri?” he whispered, licking his lips, heart beating frantically.

“Oui?” they asked and God, did Hercules love French. It was now his favorite language, how the vocals and consonants rolled around their tongue, spilling in a symphony of familiar sounds that he could never understand. That he never wanted to understand yet wanted to hear all the time. He loved French so fucking much.

“Before this goes on any further,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “I’ve—I never—”

“I know,” they squeezed the back of his neck, lips curling upwards again. “And it’s okay. I will go easy on you,” they teased. “But I think I deserve a kiss, oui?”

“Oui,” he nodded, coming out garbled and horrid. Lafayette laughed. “Hey, I’m trying.”

“I know,” they repeated, grinning before slotting their mouths together.

And of course, as many times before, Hercules had been _wrong_. Because he’d thought that their kiss would feel like any other kiss. Perhaps wetter or fuller or less or sweeter or hotter, he didn’t know about that but what he knew is that kisses were either good or bad. If Laf was a bad kisser then, well, he could deal with that. Kissing turned into being intimate with the one person you like and now about sexual pleasure. And if Laf was good at kissing then hey, another thing they were fucking great at. But no, kissing Laf wasn’t at all like kissing Eliza or Rachel or Georgia. Not at all.

It was an explosion of emotions—his heart beating inside his ribcage burst, breaking out, making him feel breathless only a second into the kiss, knees shaking even though he was sitting down and in that exact moment he knew that he was fucking screwed. Oh God. Oh, _God_. He was screwed.

Because their kiss was sweet and slow but their lips were parting to make way and he did not hesitate to plunge his tongue into their mouth, ignoring their morning breath in favor of running it through the back of their teeth and get a feel of what their mouth felt like, hoping that he’d have plenty of opportunities to learn it by heart. He felt like a teen again, like a kid the first time he sees a pair of tits—inexperienced, incompetent, a little bit nervous, a lot turned on and triple giddy. Hercules wanted to jump Lafayette’s bones but he didn’t know _how_.

Lafayette let out a soft sound as their tongue met his and Hercules greedily swallowed it down, eyes finally falling shut and mouth moving slick against theirs, hand sliding from the sheets of his bed to grasp their waist over their oversized shirt. He wished he could touch skin, could feel how smooth it was because damn, their legs were soft as fuck and he’d been feeling them all night. He wanted to run his hands over them—what the hell?

He did. He caught their knees and shifted so that it was Lafayette sitting on his lap, leaning against the wall, having enough support to manhandle them into the right position to stroke and caress their long legs, squeezing their thighs. His beautiful person gave a soft hum and pulled away to breathe, eyes dark, cheeks blazing. Hercules puffed a few breaths into the side of their face, hands completely still on their thighs.

“Well,” he coughed as they played with the hem of his shirt.

“Well?” they smiled a little, small and mischievous. “How did your first queer kiss go?” they played with his short curls, nails scraping his scalp pleasantly.

“Good,” his voice cracked and he coughed as they giggled. “Uh, good. Pretty good.”

“Would you say this is a one-time thing or would you like to do it again?” they tried to adopt a serious voice but their giggles burst out from time to time.

“I don’t know about that one, can I get you back on it?” he teased, rubbing their thighs, moving his hands to curl over their hips. “I need to test it out. Just a bit more.”

“How much more?” their voice lowered, biting their lip, leaning in closer.

“I don’t know. Results are inconclusive,” he breathed, eyes drifting to their lips.

“Well, how about we get naked before we do anything else?” they offered with a small smirk. “So the results will be, ah, much clearer? Or is that too much?”

“I… I don’t know,” Hercules said sincerely and Lafayette gave him a sweet smile, pecking his lips slowly. “I’m sorry, I know it’s ridiculous—”

“It’s not,” they promised. “Alright, let’s see about this; how about we shower?”

“Shower?” he frowned.

“ _Oui_. It’ll be more comfortable. You shower and I follow you,” they rubbed his chest. “And if you are not comfortable then we don’t do anything more. _D’accord_?”

“Okay,” he nodded, kissing the corner of their mouth. “That seems fair.”

“Let’s go,” they smiled, patting his chest and standing, stretching. A strip of skin could be seen and Hercules _did_ want to see them naked but at the same time he had his reservations.

In other words, would he really like dick?

It was something so crude to say, so… rude. But those were his doubts, his feelings. Lafayette was obviously more than their basic anatomy and he really did like them, with or without the implications of what their assigned gender at birth was, but he liked sex, he _missed_ sex, missed being close to someone and feeling sexy and bending someone over a table knowing that they wanted it, wanted him, craved his body like he craved theirs.

And Lafayette was so goddamn beautiful.

With that in mind, he stood as well, taking off his shirt before moving into his bathroom, kissing their lips on the way. He did love kissing them, enjoyed it so, and he was able to get one last taste of their tongue before entering the bathroom. And, well, Hercules Mulligan may have been Irish, may have been a baker when he was supposed to be a tailor and may have been the biggest failure his family had ever seen but he was _not_ a coward.

So he left the door open as he threw away his shirt and undid the string of their pajama pants, aware of Lafayette sitting on his bed and watching him. It was when he dropped his boxers and bend over to retrieve his clothes and put them off the floor that he heard Lafayette let out a French curse, making him turn around. Another French curse. Lafayette’s eyes zeroed in on his cock.

“Ah,” they bit their lower lip and crossed their legs, one knee over the other. “I had hoped your dick was cut. I love a cut cock.”

Hercules felt his face heat up and he looked away for a moment, unable to see Lafayette’s hungry eyes over his body. He’d been told before, knew he was well-endowed. He also worked out, took care of his body, knew he wasn’t ugly by any means but it still made him nervous to be so exposed in front of them when they were still fully clothed.

“So,” he breathed. “You gonna join in?”

They smirked—fully smirked, eyelids going heavy, legs unfolding as they stood and approached him, still scanning over his body as they lifted their shirt up and threw it to the carpet and—and okay, for some reason Hercules had been expecting them to be completely flat? He had assumed they had been using some kind of full bra. He didn’t know –

“Fuck,” he breathed, watching their chest.

“Not real but I’m guessing you don’t mind?” they teased, breasts bouncing slightly as they dropped their arms back down. So they’d had top surgery. Hercules was well and truly fucked, he was such a tits guy, he loved tits so fucking much and Lafayette had ones that were so perky, so nice, looked natural with a gap between them, the teardrop shape, none of the bolt-on, balloon disasters Hercules had seen and he had the sudden thought that they’d probably had a gender surgeon doing this to them.

“I don’t mind,” he licked his lips. “At all. They’re—nice.”

They laughed, dropping their pants, revealing red lace. Red. Lace. All pretty and see-through, low on their hips. Hercules felt weak at the knees as Lafayette stepped closer, taking his hands, moving them to their breasts as their nose brushed his.

“Touch me,” they breathed and Hercules watched himself as he brushed the underside of their tits with his thumbs, biting his lips as he pressed a soft kiss against their lower lip, taking their nipples between his fingers and pinching. “ _Ah_ ,” they breathed, eyes fluttering shut as he turned them to hard peaks, wishing he could slam them against a small and take their breast into his mouth, sucks hard, burying his face between them. But—slow. Step by step or he might get overwhelmed and he really, _really_ wanted to do this.

“You’re still clothed,” he whispered, against their lips and they took his mouth into another kiss before sliding their hands down, dropping their underwear, the scant lace falling to the floor as they pushed him into the shower, pressing him into the wall as he grabbed a handful of their chest, massaging, making them whine. “I’m going to turn on the shower now.”

“Don’t mind me,” they breathed, lip between their teeth, toes curling.

“Good,” he leaned in to kiss them as he blindingly twisted the knob for hot water, hoping it wouldn’t spray them too much whilst it warmed up, his lips now sliding down their face to their neck, biting them, making them shudder. “I didn’t expect you to…”

“Have boobs? None do,” they laughed breathlessly, pushing up into his touch. “Yet they all love it. Everyone loves tits. Seems like you do.”

“I’m a boobs man,” he laughed, nodding against their collarbones. “I find them lovely on you, Ri.”

“Good, because these are something to be proud of,” they teased, testing the water. “Now get under the spray because I work best with a wet cock and I don’t have enough saliva in my mouth due to this fucking hangover.”

“Cursing on me, princess?” he joked as he backed up, hands slipping from their chest to their hips, pulling them closer, faking confidence even as his heart threatened to explode once more, thundering against his ribs. “I oughtta clean that filthy mouth of yours.”

Their knees touched the floor and Hercules almost fell, knees weak as their eyes found his cock, licking their lips.

“You don’t even know how filthy it really is,” they whispered before licking a stripe up his dick and taking the head into their mouth, _moaning louder than Hercules_ as they did it. “Ah, you’re so _thick_ , you’re— _tu est grande_ ,” they groaned, tongue poking out to rub the tip against his slit, making Hercules bite into his knuckle. “God, I’m going to love sucking you dry every morning.”

Hercules blew out a breath, hand moving to cup the back of their head, fingers tangling into their curls. “Is this okay?”

“ _Oui_ ,” they sighed as they nuzzled his crotch, nosing his length, inhaling, licking over his balls, shit, they were going to be _great_ at this, weren’t they? Just like kissing, shit.

“Limits?” he asked, trying to keep in control as they sucked kisses into the side of his cock. “What do you like?”

“Honestly?” they laughed, shining eyes moving to his as they rubbed the tip against their lower lip. “Fuck my face. Make me choke. I love it.”

Hercules’ dick twitched. Lafayette laughed again before kissing his hip and then taking the entirety of his length into their throat. No gagging. No hesitation. Nothing. Just a tight, wet heat as they sucked him down and swallowed around him. Hercules struggled to stand, leaning against the wall, moaning their name loudly.

“Shit, fuck, fuck, _fucking hell_ ,” he gasped as Lafayette came back up to gasp for air, panting, hand gliding over the velvety, hot skin of his dick. “ _Jesus_ , Marie!”

“I love cock,” they sighed, sucking on the head. “When I saw you I just wanted to be on my knees for you, _amour_ , I’ve been trying not to suck on spoons since I met you.”

“Stop talking, for the love of God,” Hercules’ voice cracked again but this time he really did not care about it, pulling on their hair, making them moan. Hair-pulling too, fuck, like this wasn’t kinky enough. Hercules had a feeling that he was about to experience a whole new damn world with Lafayette. “Can you just—”

They nodded and went back to work, tongue swirling, then sliding then pressing against the downside of his cock as they bobbed their head, playing with his balls, sliding closer, expertly being a good little cockslut and _boy_ , did Hercules’ reservations fly out of the window the moment he came all over that pretty face. And it hadn’t even been his fault, he’d warned them and they’d jerked him off, pointing him at their own face, waiting with their mouth open and their eyes closed and Hercules was set for _life_ with that pretty picture.

It wasn’t even nine in the morning.


End file.
